One Less Loser
by Kuramastrass
Summary: An emo-tribute to Kuwabara, the fallen hero of YuYu Hakusho. I hope all who read it think twice about Kuwabara the next time they prepare to insult him. I've seen the light, and I after reading this, you will, too. Kuwabara deserves better than this.


**Kuwabara gets a bunch of crap. Too much crap, I think, sometimes.**

**I used to hate Kuwabara with a passion that rivalled only my love for Kurama. Anyone who knows me knows that.**

**But I've seen the light.**

**This is my emo-way of paying tribute to Kuwabara. Those of you who are in his fan club, rooting for the underdog, I hope you like it. I hope you nod your heads at the end of every sentence, maybe not liking what I've done, but knowing it's true. We treat him this way, and you hope that, like me, others will see the light.**

**For those of you who hate Kuwabara, and who do a lot of the things described here, I hope that... well, I don't care whether or not you become a fan or anything. He still isn't my favorite person. But I respect him now. Even if you don't get to that level, I hope this at least makes you think twice.**

**Those of you who don't give a hoot about Kuwabara one way or the other, and you're just looking for a good YYH one-shot, I hope you enjoy.**

**I don't own YYH. But after SilverYouko300 wins the lottery and buys all the rights to it, I'll blackmail her for it. (Just kidding. About the blackmailing part.) I also don't own the song "Loser" by one of my top-ten favorite bands, 3 Doors Down.**

**Anyone who read YYH fiction knows we do this. We all do this to him. How many times have you seen him called "Kuwabaka" in the narration, or seen Yusuke, Hiei, and Kurama sent on a mission without Kuwabara, the reason being that he's too weak and would get killed?**

**Enough already!**

**Anyhow, that's enough of me ranting; if I don't stop now I'll go on forever. I hope you enjoy "One Less Loser", and please, review, okay? Thanks. And thanks to Out-Of-Control-Authoress and Armed'n'Strangerous for being the inspiration for this little one-shot.**

He flicked the switch once, twice, three times. The third time, it clicked over, and the small flame roared to life.

He reached into his back pocket for the pack of cigarettes he'd bought a day earlier.

It was the last one. There was only one left.

_Breathe in... right away..._

But that didn't matter now. He _needed_ this – he needed it _now_.

The flame licked at the end of the cigarette. Slow – this was going too _slow_.

_Nothin' seems... to fill this place..._

He could sense how close he was to collapsing. His nerves were _shot_. He needed to calm them.

But he knew it wouldn't help him forget. It would calm him, but he would _never_ forget.

He _could _never forget.

_I need this... every time..._

Finally, it caught. He released his hold on the switch and stuffed the lighter back into his pocket.

He brought the cigarette to his lips, took a breath, and instantly felt the calming effect.

Briefly he wondered when he had begun doing this so often. Before, it had been nothing more than an occasional habit. But now, as confirmed by the now-empty pack, it was more than that. It was an addiction.

And he didn't care.

_So take your lies; get off my case..._

But he knew when it had started. He knew _when_, and he knew _why_.

He'd started smoking almost a full pack a day when he couldn't take it anymore.

He couldn't _take_ it anymore.

_Some day, I will find..._

He just couldn't _take_ it anymore.

It had been going on for as long as he could remember – his entire _life_. At first he took it, took it like a man. And he was proud of that. He pretended it didn't bother him.

_Pretended_ – that was the key word.

_A love that flows... through me like this..._

No one knew how much it bothered him. On the outside, he didn't care.

On the _inside_?

He felt useless, worthless, stupid. Every comment – both joking and sarcastic – chipped away at his self-esteem.

He'd worked hard to get where he was – harder than the other three, the three that mattered. And he was proud of that.

And he was angry. He was a good actor, practiced at hiding his true emotions, but he wasn't perfect; he was nowhere near _Kurama's_ level. He must have given himself away at least _once_.

But the teasing and the mocking never stopped.

_And this will... fall away..._

He was shaking.

He was shaking with anger. The thought of how they had never stopped filled him with such rage.

Maybe one day, he could find someone who loved him, and love could fill him the way this rage did now...

_This will fall away..._

_Yukina!_

Unwillingly, the name popped into his head. Her name, her face – once, everything about her had filled him with joy.

Now, any thought of her filled him with pain.

_Yeah..._

He loved her. Ever since he'd first seen her face, on that videotape, he'd loved her.

He still did, as much as he wished he could deny it. If he didn't love her, the pain would have hurt less.

_You're getting closer..._

He wasn't always the brightest – he knew that; and he was constantly reminded of it. He was a bit... _oblivious_.

But he'd finally realized that it was a one-sided love. She didn't love him... at least, not that way.

He didn't know what it was, whether it was someone else or she just didn't like him...

_To pushin' me off... of life's little edge..._

But he _did_ know _one_ thing: deep down, she was just like everyone else. She didn't mock or taunt or insult him; she was too nice for that. Even though she didn't love him, she didn't treat him like the others.

She didn't mock him, but she didn't love him. She didn't mock him, but she didn't care about him, either.

She was just one of many – the entire world – that just didn't care.

_'Cause I'm a loser..._

"_Kazuma... just don't die, okay?"_

_"Jeez, Kuwabara!"_

_"Can you just make it look like you're trying?"_

_And sooner or later... you know I'll be dead..._

He was still shaking.

The effect had already worn off, and the cigarette wasn't even finished. Shaking, the anger was spreading through him like wildfire.

He let out a yell, then threw his fist into the nearest brick wall.

_You're getting closer..._

"_Seriously, Kuwabara? You didn't even make a dent!"_

"Shut_ up_, Urameshi!" He turned again and threw another punch. This time, he hit nothing.

Only air.

_You're holding the rope... and I'm takin' the fall..._

He punched the wall again, dragging his fist down against the bricks, scraping his knuckles on the rough surface.

They were in his _thoughts_ now, too – now he could _never_ escape from it. They were always there with him. Their voices were always there, mocking him at every turn.

Maybe cigarettes weren't the answer. Maybe what he needed was something _stronger_.

_'Cause I'm a loser..._

He knew where he could find people; he knew where he could get these things. He had never thought that he would go there, unless it was to rescue Eikichi or something.

The great Kazuma Kuwabara, man of honor, had no need for drugs.

_I'm a loser..._

But he wouldn't be going there as the great Kazuma Kuwabara, man of honor. He wouldn't be going there as Kazuma Kuwabara, second-toughest and second-meanest punk at Sarayashiki Jr. High, either.

He would be going there as Kazuma Kuwabara: broken-down man, oaf, weakling, idiot, deadweight, failure, sidekick, comic relief, and loser.

_Yeah..._

He'd go tomorrow night. It was late now. He'd go home – not that there was any real _point_ to it – and go to sleep.

He and the others had plans for tomorrow – training at Genkai's. Since Yusuke had become an S-class felon and was no longer Spirit Detective, that was his job now.

He went for training in the hope that one day he'd catch up. But he was only human – he could only improve so much, and it was pointless to even _dream_ of keeping up with the demons.

Yet, they expected him to. And all they did was mock him and accuse him of not trying hard enough when he fell short.

So what was even the _point_?

He hoped – he would never admit it, but deep down, he hoped – that one day, one of them would misjudge their attack and kill him. Then, by some miracle, he'd be brought back to life because he was the same as Yusuke.

He would be a demon lord, and he would get the same respect Yusuke got. He had never died – _never_; that was the only thing he had ever done that Yusuke had failed to do. So who was to say that it wasn't possible?

His more rational side quashed that dream, day after day. It was never going to happen.

At the very least, he hoped to be of use to Koenma. He wanted to be the best Spirit Detective he could be. And one day, he would surpass what Yusuke had done in his short time as Detective. Or at least become his equal.

He knew firsthand most of the things Yusuke had done – Rando, Suzaku, Toguro, the Dark Tournament, Toguro again, and Sensui. Then there were the things he had only heard stories about – training with Genkai, getting back the dark artifacts, and waging war in the demon world.

He wasn't trying to downplay Yusuke's accomplishments; he'd _been_ there. He knew what he'd been through. It would take him a long time to even come _close_ to equaling Toguro's defeat, let alone everything _else_ Yusuke had done. He knew that.

But he knew he could do it. He knew he could equal him.

The others didn't have that faith in him – not even Koenma did. He seemed hesitant to give him the position, and he hadn't gotten a _single_ mission yet in his _two months_ as Detective.

But Kurama had. Hiei had. Hell, even _Yusuke_ had, and _he_ was an S-class _felon_!

_This is... getting old..._

"_Aw_, come _on_, Kuwabara! That didn't even _hurt_!" Yusuke complained, crossing his arms over his chest. "And I didn't even _move_!"

It was true – Yusuke _hadn't_ moved. He'd stood perfectly still and let Kuwabara punch him.

"Shut _up_, Urameshi! Take _this_! _Spirit Sword!_"

_Well, I can't break... these chains that I hold..._

He swung at Yusuke, who jumped out of the way.

On the edge of the clearing, observing, Hiei chuckled. "Very wise move, Yusuke. The oaf slicing off your arm _would_ have hurt."

Since Yusuke's demotion, Hiei had taken to addressing the ex-Detective by name, though he would sometimes slip up and call him _Detective_. But _he_ was still referred to as _the oaf_, however, despite now being the Detective.

"Now, Hiei," Kurama, standing next to the short demon, warned him.

That was Kurama, never outright telling Hiei to stop.

"Perhaps you should stop _announcing_ your attacks, Kuwabara," the redhead suggested. "You have no _need_ to, you realize. You merely do it out of comfort. _Yusuke_ can use his Spirit Gun without announcing it. Yusuke?"

Yusuke demonstrated by blasting his Spirit Gun into the air without saying a single word.

"Who _gives a crap_ about what _Urameshi _can do, Kurama? _This_ is the way _I_ do things!"

"Everyone knows that the Spirit Gun is Yusuke's signature technique, and that the Spirit Sword is yours. They know what to expect; both of you are rather infamous among demons. It would be more _prudent _for you to use the technique without _announcing_ it _beforehand_."

_My body's... growin' cold..._

Kurama was the politest one, and he did it, too.

Not in a way that anyone would notice, but he still did it. It was different than the way the others did, their outright, obvious way.

Did they _always_ have to compare him to Yusuke, _always_? Even when they were trying to be helpful, they compared him to Yusuke and reminded him of how he fell short.

_Yusuke__ can use his Spirit Gun without announcing it..._

_There's nothing left... of this mind..._

"I'm better 'n Urameshi," he grumbled under his breath, walking down the darkened sidewalk. "I _am_. He's some frickin' demon _freak_ and _I'm_ a _human_!"

But not even his own words could console him. Deep down, he knew that even _he_ didn't believe that. Not anymore.

How _could_ he, when his was the _one _voice crying out with that message? Everyone else said the exact opposite. The voice of the majority was the voice with the power, the voice that was listened to.

_Or my soul..._

"Kazuma Kuwabara? _Here? Seriously?_ Never thought I'd see _you_ around here, bro." The speaker stood in the shadows, everything visible but his face.

"Yeah, can't blame ya," he answered. "I don't think _anyone_ ever expected to see me around here."

"But I have what you want. Let me see the dough."

Kuwabara reached into his back pocket and handed him the money.

"Now, I don't do this _all _the time," the dealer said. "But sometimes I charge first-timers different. Give 'em a break. You know?" He held out about half of what he'd been given. "I'll cut _you_ an even_ bigger _break, seein' as how you're Kazuma Kuwabara an' all."

"Keep it, man. That doesn't mean anything to me. Just give me the stuff."

"Fine. I see how it is. Take it, then." He handed him a small box, about the size of a pack of gum. "Just be _careful_, bro. You're a first-timer, so's ya wouldn't know. But that's some mighty _powerful_ stuff."

"Thanks." He took the box and left.

_Addiction needs... a pacifier..._

First it was cigarettes, now it was this. Maybe he should get himself a pacifier, or something. To keep him from putting these things in his mouth.

Or maybe, what he needed was a pacifier like Koenma's. He could store all his spiritual energy in it – he had always had an abundance of that. Then he could trap himself in that spiritual web for eternity – or until he died, or whatever.

And then, for the first time, he wondered: would anyone miss him?

_The buzz of this poison... is takin' me higher..._

He opened the box. It was full – that was all he could tell in the dark. He pressed a finger to the contents, and found that it had a sand-like quality. Briefly he wondered how to take it; then he decided to just inhale it.

It burned his throat at first, and he started to choke. He fell to his knees, dropping the box.

Yet, after those first moments, he started to feel it. The feeling he'd been searching for.

_And, this will... fall away..._

The numbness.

_This will fall away..._

The world began to fade around him. It was such bliss. It was only him now, in this new world; the others, those that had constantly mocked and belittled him, were gone. He was free.

_Yeah, yeah..._

Then reality came back to him. Hit him hard, like the car that had first killed Yusuke.

_You're getting closer... to pushin' me off... of life's little edge..._

"_Kuwabara, you loser!"_

_"Kazuma... just give up. Don't get killed."_

_"Maybe you should stop picking fights with Urameshi."_

_'Cause I'm a loser..._

Sawamura, Kirishima, Okubo...

_And sooner or later... you know I'll be dead..._

Even _them_ – even his best friends, even _them_...

_You're getting closer... You're holding the rope... and I'm takin' the fall..._

They were only worried for his safety; he _knew_ that, but still...

_'Cause I'm a loser..._

"_Maybe you should go fight some first-graders."_

_"More like the nursery!"_

_Well, I'm a loser!_

"Shut _up_!" he screamed, hoping to silence the mental voices. "Shut _up_! _Shut up!_"

_You're getting closer... to pushin' me off... of life's little edge..._

"_Maybe you should only fight people smaller than you from now on."_

_'Cause I'm a loser..._

"_Or maybe girls. Maybe you should stick to fighting girls, you sissy."_

_And sooner or later... you know I'll be dead..._

"_Kuwabaka. Really. You think a name like that's gonna scare me?"_

_You're getting closer... You're holding the rope... and I'm takin' the fall..._

"Shut... _up_!" he roared, getting up.

_'Cause I'm a loser..._

"I am _not_ a loser! I'm _not!_" he yelled to the midnight sky. "Just because I'm not as _smart_ as _Kurama_, or as _fast_ as _Hiei_, or as _powerful_ as _Urameshi_, that doesn't make me a _loser_! I don't have _good looks_ or _lots of money_, either, but _that _doesn't mean _anything_! I'm only _human_, and I've done a pretty_ damn good job _of trying to keep up with the demons! I have an honor code, and I love kittens and a good, clean fight. I'm _Kazuma Kuwabara_, _the second-toughest punk at Sarayashiki Jr. High!_ And I'm _not_ _a loser!_"

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah..._

But still, they taunted him. They listened to none of what he said. None of that mattered to them; in their eyes, he would forever be Kuwabaka the sidekick, the idiot, the oaf, the deadweight, the failure, the comic relier, the loser. Their voices kept coming, taunting him, mocking him, belittling him, insulting him. It would never end, would it?

_"Hey, Kuwabara. You're conscious. I'm not used to __that__."_

_You're getting closer... to pushin' me off... of life's little edge!_

He looked around and saw the box he'd purchased earlier still on that ground.

More. That was what he needed – _more_. He needed more to block out their voices. A little had let him forget for five minutes. _More_ would block them out for longer, wouldn't it?

_'Cause I'm a loser... and sooner or later... you know I'll be dead!_

He reached for the box. This was it. Finally, he'd have a few peaceful moments to be himself. He wouldn't be Kuwabara the idiot. He wouldn't be Kuwabara the sidekick. He wouldn't be Kuwabara the loser.

Finally – finally, even if it was just for ten minutes, he would be able to be _just_ Kuwabara.

_You're getting closer... You're holding the rope... and I'm takin' the fall!_

No one had ever tried to help him, really. They _all _mocked him. Kurama, Yusuke, Hiei, Genkai... even Yukina and Koenma and Botan. Hell, even _Shizuru_, his big sister, did it. She was the worst, sometimes. There were times where her words had cut deeper than Hiei's or Yusuke's, and when people thought of his tormentors, those were the two they thought of.

They were responsible for this. They were the problem. They all held the rope at the ready, prepared to help him.

They held the rope that could save him. They all let him fall.

They all let him down.

_'Cause I'm a loser... Yeah..._

He took the majority of it, completely forgetting about the seller's warning. _Just be __careful__, bro. You're a first-timer, so's ya wouldn't know. But that's some mighty __powerful__ stuff._

He wasn't thinking about that. All he wanted was to escape. He _needed_ to escape the taunting, even if only for ten minutes. It had to _stop_.

It had to _end_.

And it did. He was finally able to escape from it all. It was accidental, but Kazuma Kuwabara was able to escape from the torment, from the teasing, the insults, and the mocking... _permanently_.

And when they found him, would anyone _care_? Would anyone care that yet _another_ life had been taken to drugs? Would anyone care that a junior high student, who was finally getting back on track, had his brightened future cut so _short_? Would anyone care that a family had _lost_ a brother and a son?

They would. _Most_ people would. It would be in the news for weeks on end, until people were sick of hearing it. They'd be sick of even _thinking_ it. However, in _Kuwabara's_ case...

In everyone's eyes, he would forever be a loser. Whenever they thought of his life, they would think of him as Kazuma Kuwabara, the punk who'd lost to Yusuke Urameshi 156 times straight – Kazuma Kuwabara: the oaf, the idiot, the weakling, the deadweight, the failure, the sidekick, the comic relief, the loser. They would always remember him by the nickname that they had given him, the name they had _branded_ his _soul_ with, the name that _they_ were so _fond_ of: _Kuwabaka_. That was what they would remember. That was his legacy.

And when they thought of his death? Everyone would be glad. They would smile, they would laugh. They would cheer.

After all, with him gone, there was one less loser in the world.

- Kuramastrass -


End file.
